


time after time

by somerdaye



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Groundhog Day, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 05:06:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somerdaye/pseuds/somerdaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>right. okay. the day is repeating itself. t-that’s fine -- that’s cool. louis can deal with that. weird shit happens in this band all the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	time after time

**Author's Note:**

> beta'd by my lovely laurencake. disclaimer: i have never seen groundhog day, though i have, in fact, seen the episode of the suite life on deck where the same thing happens.
> 
> (originally posted on livejournal: 2012-05-07)

all in all, it’s a typical day in the life of louis tomlinson. he wakes up, eats the omelet harry put on his plate, takes a shower that is cut short by liam bursting into their flat, scrambles to get ready for the interview everyone but daddy direction had forgotten about, answers the same eleven questions for what he vainly hopes is the last time, then there’s a quick meet-and-greet with a small (by comparison) gaggle of fans, pizza and movie with the boys at niall’s, and bed.

he never thought he’d be thinking of things like interviews with sugarscape and fans being held back by unimpressed security as  typical , but hey, one does get rather used to the shrieks after a while. it’s kind of like white noise.

anyway, a normal day. nothing at all spectacular occurs.

it does not, in any way, bear repeating.

-

louis wakes with the sun on his face, which is a nice surprise. sunny two days in a row? go london! he basks a little, but harry’s voice calling him for breakfast makes him stand and stretch.

odd. he looks down at himself, certain he’d been wearing different pajamas when he went to sleep. he shakes this off easily enough as a trick of his mind, or a prank the boys would laugh with him about later in the day. what isn’t so easy to shake off is the smile harry gives him from the stove, where he’s flipping an omelet onto a plate. the deja vu would’ve been enough to set his internal alarms off, but there was something strange about harry’s expression. brittle, like.

“you all right, there?” louis asks, taking the plate and ruffling harry’s hair in thanks like he had yesterday. harry’s eyebrows furrow, possibly because of the familiarity, but he joins louis at the table easily enough.

it’s companionable until harry levels him with a stoic look and says, “i think today is yesterday.”

“sorry?” louis isn’t sure if it’s just too early, or if harry has actually gone off the deep end. harry sighs, long-suffering and unnecessary, and hands louis his phone, which. “it says today is yesterday.”

“yes, i believe i covered that.”

louis is, at this point, eighty-six percent sure that this is an elaborate joke, but still raises an eyebrow at his plate.

“so you decided to make omelets again.”

“ _yes_ ,” harry is nodding like he’s so fucking happy that louis understands, which is a shame because he really, really does not. “‘cos what if i had to do everything the same and i was the only one who remembered yesterday being today? i thought it must have been just me, because my mum texted me the same thing she did yesterday morning, and she didn’t get my joke about echos.” he looks at the clock above the stove. “and i think that liam is going to let himself into our flat in thirteen minutes to tell us that we’re going to be late for an interview we already did.”

right. okay. the day was repeating itself. t-that’s fine -- that’s cool. louis can deal with that. weird shit happens in this band all the time, he tells himself. it’s all felt a bit too much like a dream to stay grounded to reality. obviously.

“okay,” louis says, because what else can he say. harry takes his phone back and texts zayn and niall to remind them of the interview. he explains to louis that he’s hoping they’ll tell him he’s a twat and that they’ve already done it, but to his dismay they’re nothing but grateful that they can be dressed when liam’s eyebrows judge their life choices.

“you realise what this means,” says harry.

“i’m still dreaming?”

“no, you twat. it means we can do whatever we want.” his eyes are sparkling in a way that louis hasn’t seen since the x-factor, and he can’t help matching harry’s mischievous smile. “anything we want, and we’ll still wake up tomorrow, and it’ll be today -- yesterday -- until we figure out what’s causing it.”

louis can see a massive flaw in this plan. “what if it’s just today that’s yesterday, though? what if it’s a fluke and we wake up and tomorrow is tomorrow and we’ve ruined our careers?”

“ah,” harry says, like he hadn’t thought that far ahead.

that should be the end of it, really, but louis’ mind is already presenting him with far too many ideas for ways this day could be spiced up, and he finds himself saying “why don’t we just... like, keep it subtle. normal one direction crazy, nothing mental. if we wake up and tomorrow is yesterday, then -- then, yes, let’s wreak some havoc.”

harry’s smile widens. “deal.”

-

sure enough, liam does indeed yell at them, but at least they have the foresight to be dressed and ready for it. they pile into the van without much finesse, and louis makes a point to sit in a different seat than he had the day before. harry rolls his eyes but sits beside him without argument.

“who wants to take bets on the questions they’ll be asking?” harry asks, his voice slow and languid like he doesn’t know damn well he’ll be cheating niall out of quite a few pounds. louis hides his giggle in harry’s shoulder.

-

harry gets sixty pounds in total, and louis gets a kick out of telling zayn’s most embarrassing story to the cheeky sugarscape girl. it’s worth it to see niall throw a shoe at harry in front of dozens of fans and zayn’s cheeks burning for a quarter of an hour.

-

“i’m going to get sick of pizza pretty quickly,” says louis as he and harry retrieve drinks from niall’s refrigerator for the second viewing of footloose in twenty-four hours, “if you’re right and this thing lasts longer than just today.”

“how dare you,” harry laughs. “pizza is a staple in our diet, louis tomlinson.”

“i didn’t say i was sick of it  yet , i just said i was going to be.” louis elbows harry in the ribs before leaving the kitchen and making himself comfortable on the sofa.

harry hands out the beers and glares at louis. yesterday, louis had sprawled onto the floor with his head on zayn’s thigh to watch the movie; and now he’d stolen harry’s spot. undeterred, harry sits on him, bringing his legs up and stretching across liam and niall as well.

“oi,” niall says without heat.

zayn scoots closer so he’s leaning against liam’s legs. “aw, feeling left out, are we?” louis teases, receiving a two-finger salute in response.

“shh,” liam says, “it’s starting.”

within five minutes, louis is bored of the movie, and he cards his fingers through harry’s hair just to have something to do. harry sighs contentedly, and louis doesn’t think he remembers a single moment of the film.

-

the sun is shining when louis wakes up, and that’s when he knows this wasn’t a fluke. it must be some kind of groundhog day situation. london just didn’t have three sunny march days consecutively. it just didn’t.

he goes to harry’s room and jumps on the bed. “it’s yesterday,” he announces and harry, still mostly asleep, cheers unenthusiastically. “what crazy antics do you want to do today?”

“i’m going to shower,” he says with a groan. “since i feel like i haven’t had one in days. pour us some cereal, will you?”

happy both at being given an instruction in this fucked up situation and also at the prospect of something to eat that isn’t omelets, louis happily obliges, ducking out of the room before harry even finds the strength to sit up.

“and wear your larry stylinson shirt!” yells louis on his way to the kitchen.

-

louis eats while harry’s showering, distracted. if harry wears the shirt -- and louis is quite certain he will – then  he has to wear something flashy and ridiculous that’ll make management fume for a little while, too. he doesn’t bother tossing his bowl in the sink, as harry will have to put his own away anyway, and isn’t it just easier to kill two birds with one stone?

the shower is shutting off when louis ducks into his bedroom, searching for the most camp outfit he owns. he’s not sure  why he has a feather boa in his closet, but doesn’t much question it. he spins around in front of the mirror, wondering if he can give liam a coronary.

“how do i look?” he asks, striking a pose in the kitchen doorway.

“with your eyes,” harry says. then he laughs. “like you rolled around in cotton candy. i can’t wait to see liam’s face.”

liam’s face is, as expected, hilarious, and harry has the idea of putting a jumper on so his ‘harry ♥ louis’ shirt is hidden until the moment he takes it off in front of the sugarscape girl. niall bursts out laughing, interrupting liam’s rambling answer to ‘how do you cope with all the screaming’ and calling the room’s attention to harry’s attire.

“well,” is all the girl can think to say before she starts giggling as well.

looking down at his shirt in surprise, harry says, “oh god, i forgot i had this on.”

“he sleeps in it,” louis explains, and zayn snorts loudly. the grin on the girl’s face -- he thinks her name might be abbie, but hell if he can keep them all straight -- turns positively wicked, and louis can practically hear paul facepalming from here.

“i have the best dreams when i’m wearing it,” harry says as if this makes perfect sense.

“oh, do you now?”

“yes.” and then harry launches into a dream he allegedly had the night before, cracking niall up further and using far too many hand gestures. it’s ridiculous and long-winded but louis thinks it’s all the better for it, and when he finishes it off with a sombre, “also, taylor swift was my backup singer”, louis bursts into applause.

louis doesn’t want to push liam too far after that, since every time he puts his arm around the sensible boy he looks like he’s about to cry. zayn tactfully points out that it might be because he looks like a gay pride parade threw up on him. but meeting the fans is fun -- louis asks if ‘anyone else can hear that’, and the entire room is quiet for five straight minutes, listening hard. harry is shaking with silent laughter, and with their get-ups louis can’t resist smacking his lips against harry’s cheek.

pictures are taken and girls are screaming again and liam is throwing his hands up and security is taking them away and it’s  chaos , it is, but all louis can focus on is the way harry’s fingers come up to touch the spot, his lips curving into a smile.

-

harry suggests they walk home, to the general annoyance of their security and bandmates, but louis is all for it. he leaps onto zayn’s back immediately, ignoring the grunt of pain because zayn’s hands are holding his knees in place when he could’ve let go, so obviously he is welcome.

“can you not do that?” zayn asks, even more annoyed.

“nope,” louis says. he nuzzles his face into zayn’s neck, probably tickling him with the boa. being cuddly and loveable is the easiest way to make zayn give in, really; he’s such a softie.

“will you stop clinging so damn hard, then?” but zayn is walking now, a few steps behind the others, who appear to be in an animated debate about ninjas. (or, well, harry and niall are -- liam still seems about to tear his hair from his head.)

“nope. but i value your feedback.” he kicks his legs like he would on a horse. “hurry up! my arms are killing me!”

zayn retorts with something along the lines of “your  face has been killing me for years. get over it!” but louis is having too much fun to pay attention to such obvious lies. he still isn’t sure why this is happening -- it isn’t groundhog day or anything important, just a random thursday in the middle of march -- but hey, he’s not complaining.

-

it’s not until he’s taking a shower, later, that he starts to panic.

what if -- what if this is  permanent ? what if he and harry are doomed to live the same boring day over and over and over until they become depressed and shoot themselves in the head? no, no, suicide didn’t even work in groundhog day, did it? so until the universe explodes, then, louis will be talking to the same sugarscape interviewer and eating the same deluxe pizza and only harry will know.

of course it could all be in his mind. he could have gone mental and just imagined harry was with him so it wasn’t such a hard fall.

breathing seems to become an issue then, and the steam clouding the loo isn’t helping, so louis turns the shower off, hops out and barely manages to tie a towel round his waist before bursting into the hallway and taking deep breaths.

“lou?” harry is just coming out of his room and he stops to frown at his hyperventilating flatmate. “lou, are you alright? can you hear me?”

his hands steady louis’ arms, and it feels so  real but what if it’s not, what if he’s crazy or dead and this is purgatory and louis feels his eyes fill with tears before he blurts, “tell me something i don’t know about you.”

“you know everything about me.”

“no you -- you don’t under stand , just tell me something, anything, that you haven’t told me yet.” a desperate edge creeps into his voice then, and harry looks positively alarmed.

“i was lactose intolerant until i was six,” he says, and louis shakes his head. he knew that. it goes on for what feels like ages -- harry spouts random facts or stories about himself, but it’s no good, louis has heard them all before, from anne or gemma or harry himself, and the ‘insane’ theory is looking more and more likely. it’s only when he actually starts to cry that harry panics as well, shaking him a little. “what’s  wrong , louis? why do you suddenly need my life story?”

“because,” louis says. “you’re a figment of my diseased mind.”

harry blinks.

“you haven’t always been, i mean, because one direction definitely existed, and you were a fifth of that, but i’m not so sure you’re real, now, because t-this whole thing is happening and it doesn’t -- it doesn’t make any sense, any at all, and the only viable explanation is that i’ve gone completely off the deep end and couldn’t deal without you, and --”

“you’re not crazy,” harry says, and louis tries not to screech ‘you don’t know that!’ back at him. harry pulls him in for a hug, even though he’s still soaked and mostly naked.

he doesn’t try to say anything else, just holds louis close until the shakes are gone.

“what if we need to do something,” louis says in a small voice against harry’s ear, “and we don’t know what it is, but if we don’t, you know, do it, then we’re like, trapped here indefinitely or something?”

“what, like forever?”

louis laughs, too loud and with a touch of hysteria, but harry pulls back to smile at him.

“yes, haz, thank you for that insightful definition of the word ‘indefinitely’.”

“well, what did he do in that movie.” harry makes a vague hand gesture. “the one where he kept reliving the day. and it was, like, beaver day or something.”

“groundhog day. there’s no such thing as beaver day.”

“maybe there should be,” harry says, and he’s trying so hard to keep the smile on louis’ face that louis can’t possibly disappoint him. he can’t remember anything about the movie, though, and neither can harry, even though they remember watching it together sometime after the x-factor but before superstardom, all huddled up in blankets and drinking more tea than the average british household consumed monthly. that sounds like a great idea, actually, and harry agrees heartily when louis says this aloud. neither want to watch the movie just yet, since harry recalls a recurring theme of suicide and is already fussing over louis far too much, so they put in spiderman and curl up on the couch.

the only time louis leaves harry’s side that night is to get into some clothes. while he’s gone, harry calls the boys and says that they’re not coming by for footloose because they’re busy shagging; they won’t remember in the morning anyway, he says when he hangs up on niall’s squawk.

they fall asleep there on the sofa, draped all over one another, and when louis comes to, he’s never been more disappointed to be in his own bed.

-

“unfinished business,” louis announces on his way to the fridge. harry, who is sat at the table already, raises his eyebrows questioningly. louis expounds upon his theory; “it’s got to be unfinished business, mate. i mean in groundhog day --” here he ignores harry’s insistent  beaver day, lou, it’s beaver day now “-- he was kind of a horrible person, wasn’t he? and you and i, we’re no saints but we’re, like, good people. aren’t we?”

“damn right we’re good people,” harry nods.

“the best people, really.”

“smart, cheeky,” harry lists on his fingers like a five-year-old and it shouldn’t be as endearing as it is, “talented, gorgeous, mischievous -- am i missing anything?”

louis says, “modest”, and harry says, “right, especially modest”, and they both laugh.

“i’m not sure if i have any unfinished business, though,” says louis as he sits in front of harry. “i mean, i never did break the jaw of the bloke who used to steal my lunch money, but doncaster is pretty far and i don’t think this day has anything to do with keith simmons, honestly.”

patting louis’ hand, harry smiles lazily. “well, the only thing i haven’t done is get arrested for public nudity.” they both hum contemplatively, and harry adds, “i’ll do that tomorrow.”

“so what are we doing today?” louis asks, swiping bacon off harry’s plate.

“i was thinking,” harry says, “about causing a riot at the meet and greet and throwing niall in the midst of the animals.”

“good, good.” louis’ foot finds harry’s under the table like it always does, and while he hates referring to it as ‘footsie’, he knows zayn has a point. it’s just another one of those ‘coupley’ things they do despite not being in a relationship -- that list is longer than louis cares to admit. speaking of... “we could excuse ourselves during the interview and come back in each other’s clothes?”

“empty all of zayn’s fuckin’ hair product down the drain.”

“rob a liquor store.”

“post naked pictures of liam online.” when louis looks at him strangely, harry defends himself, “what? we’re giving niall over to rabid fans and killing the thing zayn loves most, are we just going to ignore that liam needs to suffer, too?” for some reason, this makes perfect sense. they can’t just leave one of their band members out of it, even if ‘it’ is potentially traumatising pranks they won’t remember in the morning.

“that’s a lot of things to do in one day,” is all louis says, and harry grins.

“lucky we’ve got more than one today, then.”

-

they actually manage to fit everything into one day (except robbing the liquor store, because ‘that was a joke, harry, and aren’t you getting arrested tomorrow anyway?’) and even though his bandmates won’t speak to him and #paynefullynude and #congratsonthesexlarry are trending louis feels on top of the fucking world, and he knows harry does, too. he’d looked a little  too happy when they emptied bottles upon bottles of zayn’s favourite gels or lotions or whatever, but then again, louis had had a little too much fun shoving niall into the crowd of screaming girls.

tomorrow, though, he decides he’ll do something sensible; half to counteract harry walking around london in the buff, and half because he’s still, well, terrified.

-

louis lets himself into liam’s flat before harry is even awake, already having called someone in management to tell them about the contagious influenza that all five boys had contracted overnight. the man didn’t sound very happy, but then, louis didn’t much care. liam is soundly asleep, sprawled by the foot of the bed with half the blankets falling to the floor. he doesn’t snore, but his chest is rising and falling steadily. louis allows himself a moment of introspection that he is kind of a prick before jumping on liam’s bed and shouting. he crawls on top of liam so that when his eyes open, panicked, the first thing he sees is louis’ shit-eating grin.

“did you know that cats have nine nipples?” louis asks, making himself comfortable on liam.

for his part, liam just looks vaguely confused. he shoves at louis in a very half-arsed sort of way (please, like liam couldn’t move him if he really wanted to) before giving up and sighing loudly. “no, they don’t.”

“they do,” louis argues, “it’s so they can feed all their kittens.”

“i’m not arguing that they have plenty of nipples, i’m arguing that they don’t have nine.”

“well, then how many do you propose they have?” louis knows he’s being rather ridiculous, but since he’s about to tell liam about the groundhog-day-esque situation he and harry have found themselves in, he figures sounding halfway sane is a lost cause anyway.

liam scrubs his eyes. “y’know, never mind. i’ll just let you think they have nine, then. is that why you woke me up? to tell me about cat nipples?”

“there’s a matt cardle joke in there somewhere,” says louis.

“you’re a horrible person, you know that?”

“please,” louis scoffs, “if i wanted to be horrible, i wouldn’t have had the decency to drug you before i shaved your eyebrows.” he laughs when liam immediately feels for them. “actually, i do have something i need to tell you, but it’s not about cat nipples.”

so louis does. tell him, that is. and liam listens rather patiently for someone who’d just been rudely woken up and rambled to. he explains about the day and how it really wasn’t anything special to begin with, the only thing out of the ordinary being the sun beating down from a cloudless sky, and how harry is reliving the day with him, and he talks about all the things they did in the days they lived, and what harry’s going to do later today, and how he’s quite tired of footloose, thanks, can they never watch it again?

when he finishes, biting his lip so he doesn’t continue saying shit, liam just blinks up at him.

“you think i’m lying,” louis says, disappointed.

“i don’t think you’re lying,” says liam, “i’m just seriously doubting your sanity right now.”

“yes, well, join the club.”

that gives liam pause and he frowns, eyebrows scrunching up in a worried sort of way. “you’re -- i was kidding. you’re not --”

“sure, sure.” louis gets up and makes himself comfortable against the headboard, mostly so he can hide his face from liam’s too-understanding gaze. liam sits up, too, causing the blankets to completely tumble onto the carpeted floor. “but can you  help  me? i can’t make it stop without knowing how to make it stop and i can’t know how without figuring out why it’s happening in the first place. you see my dilemma.”

“unfinished business?” liam suggests right away.

“that’s what i thought, too, but i don’t really have any. none that have been eating away at me, anyway.”

“you’re taking this quite rationally,” liam says in a careful tone.

louis gives him his coldest smirk. “on the outside, yes. where nobody else can see, i’m screaming in utter and total confusion. and also terror.”

apparently satisfied, for the moment, that this is not a large practical joke, liam starts to think. and louis loves when liam thinks real hard, because he gets a crease right in between his eyebrows and his lips move like he’s muttering to himself, even though no sound comes from them. if he gets really frustrated he’ll start to tear at his hair, bite his nails, or fidget relentlessly, but louis really hopes it isn’t one of  those times.

on the bright side, it isn’t. on the other, louis really doesn’t expect what comes out of liam’s mouth.

“love, then,” he says in that decisive tone that means it’s figured out and everyone can rest easy now. when louis just gapes at him like a fish, he rolls his eyes. “love, louis, that thing you’ve heard about in movies.”

“i know what love is, li,” louis huffs. “what i’m confused about it how it pertains to the situation at hand.”

“either you or harry is in love, and somehow this day is giving you the chance to get the girl, as it were.” the  obviously is implied. “that’s what happened in groundhog day.”

“i thought he was an asshole and had to do good things with his day?”

“did he?” liam asks, trying to remember. “i mean, this plotline was used in the suite life, too, and that was about love. or international datelines. or both.”

“you watc--”

“zayn.”

“ah.”

liam makes a noncommittal noise.

“but i’m not in love,” louis says. liam looks at him as though he’s missed the point entirely, but louis doesn’t care. he likes to stay as far away from points as possible, as they can be sharp. “and i’m not sure, but i don’t think haz is, either.”

“no, we’d be hearing about it if it were harry,” liam agrees, still looking at him.

they’re quiet for a moment, then louis says, “maybe harry doesn’t know he’s in love,” and liam counters it with a, “maybe  you don’t know you’re in love,” which, okay, fair enough.

“what does love feel like?” louis wonders aloud. it’s a stupid question, because he knows exactly what love feels like. love feels like lottie’s goodnight kisses and his mother’s banana bread. love feels like niall’s laughter and zayn’s twisted sense of humour and liam’s stability. love feels like harry, with his too-big shirts and unruly curls and his lazy smile that says ‘good morning’ and his shoes kicked off wherever he damn well pleases and his shower-singing and the warmth of his hand in louis’ and --

liam sees the realisation dawn on his face and doesn’t answer the question, just gives him a sympathetic smile and asks what time the interview starts.

-

though a bit annoyed that louis cancelled the band’s schedule for the day, liam lets louis stay in his flat for the rest of it. he goes about his regular routine like louis isn’t even there. ten push-ups. an apple for breakfast. teeth brushed for two minutes on the dot, then flossed. season six of friends popped in his dvd player while he answers questions on twitter. and all the while he’s going about his morning, there’s a twenty-something-year-old curled up on his couch having an existential crisis. it occurs to louis, briefly, that liam has always been the one to put the pieces of louis tomlinson back together and probably he owes the lad a fruit basket or something. dinner. whatever.

see, it’s not the idea of it that’s making louis question everything he is.

of course he loves harry. that’s just -- it’s not even a question, really. harry is his best mate. he’s the snores heard through the thin walls and the one louis turns to to share a joke. and he’d already known that it wasn’t, well, a normal sort of brotherly love, because the way he feels about harry and the way he feels about the others are worlds apart.

no, no, the loving is the easy part to wrap his head around. what’s wigging him out is the fact that, if liam is correct, he wants to kiss harry’s face and  that’s what’s making the universe rewind itself again and again.

“am i... magic?” he asks liam in a small voice, and liam hides a loud snort of laughter behind his sleeve. well, no help there, then.

around three in the afternoon liam has joined louis on the couch, grudgingly letting louis snuggle up to him, and there’s a rapid succession of four knocks on the front door before it opens and zayn appears. he looks a bit frustrated but mostly he looks amused, and louis knows what’s going to come out of his mouth before he informs them that harry’s been arrested for stripping off and jumping into the fountain in the shopping centre.

“now there’s a headline,” liam laughs, and zayn cracks up, too, and louis just digs his nose into liam’s collarbone wondering why this just makes him love harry more.

-

louis comes home to an empty flat and is glad for it. he heads straight to harry’s room and strips down, putting on a pair of harry’s sweatpants and the ‘harry ♥ louis’ shirt. he climbs into harry’s bed and wonders when he became this cullen-esque creep, closing his eyes tightly against the thoughts that cloud his mind. he’s so tired. he doesn’t want to deal with any of this. he doesn’t want to live the same day for the rest of forever because his subconscious decided it was a good day to fall in love with harry styles. it’s all so ridiculous and he hates every second of it, except for the part where he doesn’t.

-

(when he texts liam how absolutely scared he is of telling harry that this time-loop is all his fault, liam responds  _ you tawt even if hazza didnt love u-love u he woud still LOVE U whats the issue _ which makes a lot of sense, oddly enough, but love is senseless. or maybe that's just louis.)

-

“not going to ask me how jail was?” harry asks the next morning, all smiles and cheekiness in louis’ bedroom door. louis takes a moment to thank a higher power for the fact that this spell or whatever always puts him back in his own bed and pajamas every morning.

“how was jail?” louis obliges, sitting up and stretching.

“not as bad as gemma made it sound.” at louis’ questioning look, “don’t ask.”

“great, haz,” louis says, in a bit of a rush to be away. “i’m going to have a shower now, if you don’t mind.”

“o-okay.”

harry leaves, his eyebrows all bunched together worriedly. louis bangs his head against the wall, lightly, calling out an ‘i’m okay!’ to harry before he can come back in. fucking hell. it’s worse, seeing him, knowing how mad he’ll be that this fucking  day is louis’ fault, all louis’ fault. he isn’t in the mood to do anything ridiculous today, and he doesn’t, ignoring harry’s increasingly anxious looks as the day goes by without event.

-

harry comes in the kitchen and gives louis a big smile, like he’s so fucking happy to see him, and louis tears his eyes away like they’ve been burned. there’s a bit of an awkward pause while he puts his energy into mashing the potatoes in front of him.

“having a midnight snack?” harry asks lightly.

“yep.”

“mashed potatoes, huh?”

“yep.”

he knows it’s not fair, because harry hasn’t actually done anything wrong except be loved by the wrong person, but if he looks at harry again he’ll just break down.

there’s a weight on his back, then, and louis realises that harry is hugging him from behind. harry hooks his chin over louis’ shoulder, totally oblivious to how louis tenses. or maybe he isn’t, but is ignoring it because he’s  harry and they’re  harry and louis and the idea that louis doesn’t want him clinging is a foreign one.

“hey,” harry says, voice soft, “remember when your mum used to put peas in and mix them all up so you’d eat your peas?”

“my mother never did that.” louis resists the urge to physically throw harry off of him, because harry will indeed remember in the morning, and what the fuck kind of luck was that? if it was only louis in this situation, he could try every day to phrase ‘i want to kiss your face’ in a way that wouldn’t make harry laugh or cringe or, worst of all, be totally disgusted. he can’t figure out whether or not he’d prefer to be alone in this. it’s a bit of a moot point, though, so he pushes it from his mind.

“really?” harry nuzzles into the junction between louis’ neck and shoulder. “mine did. yours should’ve, too. you sure she didn’t?”

if he was really angry at harry, this would be the point where he’d crack into a smile and offer to share the mash. but he isn’t angry at harry. he isn’t even angry. he’s just  sad.

“i’m sure,” he says, extricating himself from harry’s arms on the pretense of getting a spoon.

“huh,” harry says. louis doesn’t turn to look at him, just brings the whole pot of potatoes into the living room and turns on miranda. a few minutes later, he hears harry’s bedroom door close. louis sighs deeply, tipping his head back. loving harry was the easy part. now, telling him, that was -- that was something else.

-

the best person to confide in, louis decides, is niall. because he’s already told liam, even if he’s forgotten by today, and he doesn’t imagine his reaction will be much different, and zayn will just unintentionally be as unhelpful as he possibly can, so on the way home from the interview/fan session, louis tugs niall away from the others, asks if he wants to go to nando’s. he ignores the hurt puppy look he gets from harry, instead slinging an arm around niall’s shoulders as they walk down the street with two of their guard in tow.

“what’s on your mind?” niall asks, eternally cheerful.

“i’m having a bit of a problem,” louis says. he’s determined to boil it down to the basics -- for one thing, they’re on a busy street and for another, niall wouldn’t react as liam did, would probably think it all a joke. “a problem of the ‘fancying someone you shouldn’t’ persuasion.”

niall nods like he understands. “the very worst kind, then.”

“so give me your irish wisdom.” louis is only half-joking, and guesses that niall picks up on that pretty quickly, because he pulls louis to the side of the nearest building and stops, flicking a hand out to prevent the security getting too close.

“okay,” he says, his eyes still dancing with the smile that’s left his mouth, “so first of all, tell me who it is before i wrestle it out of you.”

twisting his lips into a mocking smile, louis says, “pass.”

“all right,” niall says. he doesn’t seem overly bothered but then, he never does. “so then, what’s stopping you from fancying them? there’s got to be a reason you ‘shouldn’t’, yeah?” he puts air-quotes around the word and it’s so precious that louis wants to pinch his cheeks and coo like a great-aunt but he doesn’t, just thinks about the question long and hard. what actually  was the issue?

“it’s a guy,” he says, and niall says, “is that the problem?” and louis shakes his head.

“he’s my best mate,” he says, and niall says, “you’ve given me all the clues i need and i still don’t see a problem, mate.”

louis takes a deep breath. “he doesn’t. like me. that way. probably. that’s why i shouldn’t.”

“lou,” niall laughs, “if everybody everywhere thought the way you do, nobody in the world would be together. you can’t say you ‘shouldn’t’ because they might not fancy you, because then it’s just a missed opportunity and what if they do?” then he pauses in this delightful wisdom that louis thinks he might trick zayn into tweeting and says, “besides, haz fuckin’ adores you. if you think he’s going to, whatever, shun you, then you’re sort of a twat.”

he hasn’t mentioned the important part, where he got harry stuck in a groundhog day eternity and why would anyone adore anyone after being told that, but it’s all a bit complicated and niall is already onto the topic of breaded chicken, so louis just walks alongside him, feeling light.

-

“pence for ‘em?” harry asks in a careful tone that makes louis want to punch himself repeatedly in the face. he lets himself smile and harry smiles back, hovering in the doorway like he’s not sure if he’s welcome.

“nuh-uh,” louis says. “these thoughts are worth more than that.” he scoots over to make room for harry, whose smile widens before he slips under the covers and leans back against the wall. louis curls up so his head is in harry’s lap, and harry hesitantly strokes louis’ hair. when louis does nothing but keep smiling, he does it again. repeatedly.

“fine, okay. pound for your thoughts?”

“eh, good enough,” louis laughs, because it’s easier to do this laughing. “i love you. like in a very non-platonic sort of way.”

harry’s nails catch on his ear, which. ow. he’s quiet for what feels like an entire ice age, but is probably under a minute, before he continues playing with louis’ hair. “you’re right,” he says quietly, “that is worth more than a pence.”

“glad to hear it,” louis says. harry just hums, fingers carding through louis’ hair absently, and louis isn’t the best at knowing when to keep quiet, he never has been, but honestly if harry doesn’t say something soon he will  combust . “so, like,” he continues, squeezing his eyes shut, “that’s why this. the day. thing. that’s why it’s happening. because i, you know. love you.”

now harry stops. “we -- you got us stuck in a fuckin’ time loop because you wanted in my pants?”

“well, i didn’t  know .”

“about the time loop or about wanting in my pants?”

louis says, “er, a bit of both?” and harry says, “you’re such a bloody idiot,” and he’s kissing the top of louis’ head, which is nice and all, but not exactly a reaction one way or the other.

“um,” harry finally says, blowing out a breath against louis’ hair as he does. “i’m not sure how to say this.”

wonderful. louis would try to get out of the bed except that harry’s kind of holding him there and also, if he’d been the one with nothing but platonic feelings for  harry , he certainly wouldn’t want him to just run off and be embarrassed. no, no, that wasn’t the larry stylinson way. they were a team, they could work through this like they had every other obstacle that came their way, be it a manager in a suit or a time loop straight out of doctor who. so he just snuggles closer to harry, glad when harry’s arm wraps around him.

“um,” harry says again, and louis just wants to cry and tell him that he doesn’t have to say anything, he just doesn’t, because it’ll make it worse, but he’s already in the middle of a sentence, “-- like stars -- if this is a dream, i don’t want to -- baby you light up my world --”

“what,” louis says, thoroughly confused.

“how the fuck,” harry explodes, “am i supposed to follow that? i can’t just -- i can’t say ‘i love you too’ because that’s  lame and unoriginal and i don’t do lame and unoriginal, but i’ve -- i’ve never met anyone like you, lou, ever, and how i feel about you’s always been, you know, different, and new, and if that’s what love is, spending every waking minute with someone and -- and still wanting to know what they thought about the day, if the pizza tasted as good to them as it did to you or if there was a hole in their sock that was bothering them for hours -- if that’s love, then, yeah, yes, i’m in it.”

literally all louis can say is “oh”, and that takes quite a lot of effort. harry’s fingers have started to explore, now, scratching behind his ear and brushing his collarbone like they’ve been given permission. which makes it pretty hard to think, actually.

“also,” harry says in a very conversational sort of tone, “since it’s probably why you waited so long to tell me, you  dick , i’m not mad about the beaver day thing.”

“no?” louis’ voice is small, and harry chuckles.

“hell no. did you see all the things we got to do? i got rid of zayn’s entire hair collection!” he sounds so proud that louis doesn’t bother pointing out that it’s back now, anyway. “but this is probably the last one, isn’t it? i mean, if you really did cause it, it’s done. you’ve told me. finally. we’re going to wake up and it’ll be tomorrow, won’t it?”

louis rolls onto his back, startling harry’s roaming fingers. he shrugs, which is a hard thing to do when his head is in his best mate’s lap. which -- okay, he won’t go there.

“dunno,” he says, grinning a little. “maybe you’re meant to kiss me. just in case.”

“you’re such a shit,” harry says, but he’s laughing and shoving louis off his legs. louis spares a moment to be offended that is instantly overtaken by pleasant surprise when harry straddles his thighs, unabashed. “i really don’t know what i see in you.” louis’ witty retort is lost in harry’s lips, which,  rude .

he finds he doesn’t mind much, though, because harry’s lips are soft and pliant over his, and he sighs into the kiss, his hands finding purchase on harry’s hips. which, apparently, is a signal for harry to coax his tongue into louis’ mouth and this is wonderful, really, not just the kissing but the newness of it, the idea that there’s  more to learn about harry, about all the places that make him giggle and sigh and moan and louis thinks that if this loop is indeed eternal, he’ll gladly spend until the end of the universe memorising harry. and when harry’s tongue curls against his, he’s hit with a sudden jealous rage at all the people harry’s kissed, every single one, and he digs the pads of his fingers into the denim at harry’s hips, which just seems to spur harry on more.

louis has so many things he wants to say, ranging from ‘you’re kind of a slut’ to ‘i fucking love you’ to ‘please stop making that noise’ to ‘please never stop’, but harry gives him zero chance to speak.

he kind of likes that, actually.

-

thunder booms outside louis’ window, jolting him awake. harry’s eyes open, too, and he grins.

“beat it, i guess,” he says, snuggling into louis’ warmth.

louis is just about to drift off again when a thought hits him, and he says, “wait, which of the days actually happened?” harry doesn’t seem to care much, since he’s not in a jail cell and he’s got a louis beside him, so the louis in question resolves to ask liam later, just catching the tail end of harry’s mumbled, “i hope it’s the one where zayn’s products were murdered,” before tucking his head against harry’s chest and falling back to sleep.


End file.
